


The Children of the Nightingale

by mangacrack



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dysfunctional Families in Beleriand: Doriath Edition, Gen, In Which Melian Wants A Child, Maeglin acquires a Grandfather, Melian Is A Creepy Fae And No One Acknowledges It, Morally Ambitious Character, Sauron is His Own Warning, mentions of experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26915239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/pseuds/mangacrack
Summary: Melian is a Maia but she is not perfect and the simple wish for a child shapes the fate of an entire family. In the end, it starts with a non-aggression pact she has with Sauron.
Relationships: Beren Erchamion/Lúthien Tinúviel, Elu Thingol | Elwë Singollo/Melian, Eöl & Maeglin | Lómion
Comments: 66
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brocliath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brocliath/gifts).



> Thanks @brocliath for the idea in which Melian has a pact with Sauron/Melkor to leave Doriath alone. It spiralled from there and will include the WhumbTober Challenge. 
> 
> Warnings: nothing worse than canon, a bit less romantic and a bit more creepy.

The proposal seems sensible at first. Beleriand is large and Melian lives with her husband and his people in a very small corner of it. They do not even use the entire forest for themselves. When she raises the girdle, it is little but a sign to keep other Ainur away. Or rather, she would for them to knock first, not blunder into her home like a stampede. 

Up north, far beyond the mountains, she knows is at least one other of her kind. Not everyone followed the Valar to Aman. She suspects his name and leaves him alone. They do not meet for centuries, remaining on their parts of the mountains. 

Melian is happy with Elwë and sees no reason to leave Doriath. Her abilities ensure his people begin to see the benefits of living undisturbed and in peace. Far away from the long shadows and cruelties hidden the darker corners of the world. She is not willing to face ancient spirits as long as they leave Melian in peace. She is not a fighter, she is little more than a handmaiden who fell in love. 

Her greatest wish is to make Elwë happy who is now called Elu Thingol by his people. They name him  _ The Tall,  _ less for his height but the accomplishment of granting them safety and peace. 

Soon Melian becomes jealous of the pregnant she-elves and their babies. Subtly, she tries to ask after how an Eldar conceives and how their children develop in the womb. But the Sindar know little for they only give birth when it is safe to raise their young which used to leave large age-gaps in the population. 

When Melian tries and fails to reconstruct her body into something with a functioning uterus, she becomes more desperate as the years go by. 

Finally, she dares to venture outside the safety of her realm. It is hardly the first time. The girdle is a complicated net of traps and enchantments, sometimes she requires rare incidences to keep the shadows away. 

Shadows she is forced to seek out for Melian can no longer stand having any children on her own. She fostered children who lost their parents, took in orphans and beckoned them to come to Doriath, she looked after babies when their mothers were busy and generally loved to spend time with the little ones. She loves their smiles, the light in their eyes and the trust they put in the world. 

When Melian can no longer stand the emptiness of her belly, no matter how much she tries to come up with a way to create a new soul, she approaches the Maia living beyond the mountains. He has great power and has roamed Beleriand for a long time but Melian does not necessarily trust him. 

She is aware of the people who go missing, of the hunters who disappear and are never seen again and the few who  _ do  _ return but are forever changed. 

"Good evening, Melyanna, great Queen of Doriath. What a lovely chance that we meet face to face after such a long time," the voice she heard echoing in the mountains before greets her. Out of the shadows comes a spark, great and terrible. 

"Hello Mairon, you are well aware that our meeting does not happen by chance." 

Melian studies the other Ainu. 

She recognizes him but their last meeting had been when Arda was young. Before the lamps had been lost and much happened since then. There are rumours of his involvement with Melkor but that, too, had been long ago. If he did serve Melkor, she knows nothing about how deep his loyalty ran. 

Her ladies, Vána and Estë, would tell to be cautious. But the Valië are in Aman. Far away and unavailable for advice and Melian knows of at least one pardoned Ainu who returned to their fold after Melkor was imprisoned. 

"How can I help you, Melyanna?" Mairon angles his head and his hair with the colour of fire flows over his back. "I cannot imagine what services do you need from me." 

Melian knows that there will be a price to pay but when she thinks of having her own baby, the thought does not keep her from telling Mairon of her wish. Even when he smiles and promises her to find a way, Melian does not think about the cost. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Whump Tober Challenge 10. They look so pretty when they bleed. 
> 
> Warnings: mild gore and allusions to miscarriages.

Elu Thingol notices the trail of blood leading to his wife's chambers. Alarmed, he sprints through the door and does not care how the cups and the food fall to the floor. Frantic, he calls for his wife and stops, frozen in fear, when he finds her. Melian is in the bath, naked and the water is tinted in deep red. 

"Beloved?" he asks carefully. He wonders if he is allowed to approach her. "Are you hurt?" 

"You may come closer," Melian answers him. Her long black hair is heavy and hanging down in thick threats. Water runs down her back. Without her robes, she appears thin, almost sick. "I am not harmed, please forgive me for scaring you." 

"Will you tell me why are you bleeding?" Thingol wants to know and tries to glimpse into the water. He can not discover any wound on her body, though anything below her waist is still covered by water. 

Melian sighs. "I wished to keep it a secret because I knew of the low chances of success." 

Thingol does not comprehend what his wife is talking about. Before he can ask, Melian reaches down into the bath and pulls something up. It is a deformed bundle, barely the size of a small dog and with odd limbs. They are too long and the head is too large, the feet end in sharp claws. 

It takes a moment until the King of Doriath recognizes the creature as a newborn. Without the umbilical cord, he may not have made the connection. The thing looks more what is used to find outside his forests. Grey, sick and deformed. 

"Oh, beloved. I am so sorry. Why have you not said anything?" Elu Thingol cries out. He is dismayed and unsure of how to react. Clearly, the newborn is unnaturally shaped but it is also the child of his wife and very possibly his own. 

They never spoke about having children. Elwë assumed it is not possible for their races to match in such ways. 

"It is not impossible for us to have children on our own," Melian says and strokes the newborn's forehead. It is too still to be alive. "Only incredibly difficult. I am sorry you had to see this." 

"Please tell me if you need anything," Elu urges. 

What he does not say is to inform him the next time Melian becomes pregnant. In her eyes, he sees her determination and he watched her mournful face every time she handled his brother's offspring. What Elwë cannot bring himself to ask either is if the creature is Melian's first attempt or if there have been others. 

Melian smiles and kisses her husband on the cheek. He obeys when she asks him to leave. 

They never speak of the bloody bundle in her hands she raised out of the water again. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Melian walks towards the edge of the forest, carrying her child in her arms. It safe and suckling at her breasts. Elwë is under the impression she miscarried and given the unnatural stillness of her daughter's form, she understands why he came to the conclusion. 

The truth is that the child is anything but dead. It is simply imperfect. Her daughter is prone to shifting forms. She becomes blurry at the edges and sometimes she has too many teeth, limbs or eyes. 

Maybe Elwë would learn to love their daughter but the people of Doriath would not. 

The mists part at her silent command until she reaches the edge of the forest. In the distance, mountains reach into the sky, wild and promising. 

"That will be a better place for you, dear," Melian tells her daughter. She loves her, enough to know that this one will never be happy among the Eldar. 

Under a large oak, Mairon is waiting for her. He appears in the guise of a large bird, known as vultures among the Elves. They are not popular for it is a bird of prey and known for scavenging. 

"I will take care of her," he promises as Melian hands the child over. It makes her happy that Thuringwethil immediately responds, sensing a spirit closer to her kind than Melian herself. 

"Thank you," Melian says and watches after them as Mairon flies away with her daughter in his claws. 

Then she returns to her kingdom of light, knowing she will produce a worthy heir one day. Thuringwethil is the first attempt, the first one that lived and looked vaguely like the Eldar. The next ones will be better but she will not tell Elwë until she is absolutely sure of the result of her labours. 


	3. Chapter 3

To Melian's great dismay, her hopes are smashed into pieces. While her struggling is not futile, she is not happy with the outcome either. There are more children, each one less monstrous than the one before but they all are still too eerie. They carry too much of the great song, too much of her and not enough of Elwë in them. 

Mairon demands his due every single time. The ingredients are expensive and the supply has to be fresh. Their meetings are difficult to keep a secret but thankfully Mairon knows how to distract her husband. Large bands of horrible creatures roam the land, threatening the villages outside the borders of their kingdom until Elwë is forced to aide old friends. 

Not all of them make it and on occasion Elwë tells her of a flying, skin-changing immortal spirit which is difficult to get rid of. Powerful in its own right and as beautiful as its spreads terror. 

Melian is glad Thuringwethil is doing well under Mairon's guidance. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Tinfang looks perfect. He has all the appropriate amount of toes and does not take his nourishment in blood. Melian still hesitates to present him to Thingol, though the familiarity is definitely there. His grey hair and his eyes mark him as Sindar but she is afraid that there is still too much of her in his blood. 

In order to observe how her children are going to react among the Eldar, she takes Tinfang to a couple under Lord Denethor's rule who lost their infant to the pillaging creatures. The couple agrees to raise the supposed orphan as their own and to Melian's great luck, and a little scheming, the Green Elves move away from Doriath soon after. 

It makes keeping track of her son a little difficult but she tasks birds to watch over him. Every season they return and talk to her about her son's progress. They never meet and Melian doubts Tinfang knows of his proud heritage. Or maybe he does, he is wonderous with the flute and is known for waking on unquenchable thirst in the hearts of those who hear him play. 

What Melian does not know that Tinfang is an unhappy creature, prown to wandering the world because Elves become trapped in his music like mayflies. The stars twinkle according to his melody but he roams Arda in loneliness. Only many ages later when he comes across Daeron, his brother, the first not to lose himself and become Tinfang's everlasting willing puppet, he learns the truth of his heritage. 

Tinfang will hate his mother ever after and does his best to drown the  _ Lay of Luthien  _ in the currents of time. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Did she care for us?" Tinfang asks his brother shortly after their first meeting. 

The kinship they share in undeniable and they become fast friends. The first in a long time and they spend days and nights reminiscing over their respective lives, sharing experiences and struggles that always set them apart from other children. 

The greatest difference between them is that Tinfang knew of his otherness, the eerieness he carried from the very beginning. 

Daeron grew up believing to be an Elf. One with a talent for music who had the favour of the King and the Queen. 

"I am not sure," Daeron shrugs and considers his own flute. He had many over the years but the one Tinfang gifted him is the best so far. "She had good intentions, but Melyanna only ever cared about Elwë." 

The long descriptions of Doriath and how it fell are meaningless to Tinfang. Daeron mourns the loss of his home, though he has a bittersweet relationship with it. In the end, he is glad that the coming of Beren drove him out before the choice was taken from him. 

It is poetic that the fire in the souls of the Fëanorian's cleansed the forest instead of sullying it like the tales always say. 

Call him vindictive, but Daeron is glad the Sons of Fëanor caused havoc in Melian's golden cage and freed the Sindar of the curse that clueless spirit spread among their kind. Leaving Doriath is the best thing an Elf born in that doomed forest could have happened to them in their entire life. 

"Did he know about us?" Tinfang asks but more out of professional curiosity. 

It would make a great tale, the great king learning of his ill-begotten children and the shock over how his beloved wife is a spirit that entrapped and betrayed him. 

Tinfang does not hear Daeron's bitter answer that Elu Thingol is in for a rude awakening, once he lays eyes on Varië's tapestries in the Halls of Mandos. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Daeron grows up inside Doriath. Eöl does not. 

They are never able to say which one of them is older but they learn the truth, Eöl a little earlier than Daeron who spends an entire decade in denial. It happens long before Luthien is born but when their sister is announced both finally know why they are not the favoured child. 

Eöl is well-known among the court and unofficially acknowledged as a member of the royal family. Rumours pile upon rumours as the Sindar try to figure whose son he is. None of the gossips come close the truth, most settle on Elmo, the lost brother of Elwë. Wilder guesses claim Eöl as a gift of the Vala, a message from Olwë across the sea - except that Eöl remains in Nan Elmoth his entire life and claims never to have laid eyes on the ocean. 

A handful of people remember Eöl as a child. A period too short to be true, closer to the speed the Atani grow up and not anything close how long it takes for the Eldar to mature. 

Celeborn once jokes that Eöl sprang from the ground fully formed and it is the closest the Sindar of Doriath has ever gotten to the truth. 

* * *

  
  


Eöl knows the truth from the very beginning because Melian missed a few things when she built him. Where Thuringwethil and Tinfang carry too much blood of the Ainur, she took a little bit too much from Eöl. When her son is born, the first one to actually require such a thing, he comes to the world quiet and with bright eyes. In her opinion, he always knew of her dabbling and began to accuse her of her faults as soon as he was able to. 

To her great relief, Eöl never says anything. He figures out how to pretend but his mind has still gaps where emotions should be. From the interactions with others, she concludes that she made a mistake somewhere and lets him hide in Nan Elmoth. 

There, Eöl feels at home and almost happy. As much as he can be. 

Melian fears that Elwë suspects. 

"I could not hide him in time," she confesses to Mairon one day. Their experiments have taught them a lot. The blood and the crying of the living vessels they have to use no longer cause her guilt. 

Mairon has always been careful to collect people with the right signs. Never people who are too close to Thingol and no one from Doriath. Melian tightened her girdle after one incident where a young Elleth went missing unexplained and with nothing but scream echoing through the woods as the last message. 

The King orders the Marchwardens, old warriors from elder times who are not needed any more, to keep watch at the borders. Melian pities them, they cannot know their thankless patrols are her fault but she cannot tell Elwë the reason why her girdle failed that one time without giving him a reason. 

"Oh, do not fear. I will take Eöl as my student for while, that should distract him," Mairon reassures her as he bows over a woman he whisked away with great effort. Some time ago he figured out that they need a living womb to breed human-looking creatures. "It will give him an outlet for all the emotions he does not understand." 

The monstrous appetite, or other habits unbecoming of an Eldar, are Melian's problem, not his. 

"Thank you, Mairon. You have been a great help," Melian smiles, happy with the solution. "Until next time and ask Thuringwethil if she wishes to come the next time we meet." 

Mairon looks after Melyanna, wondering if she is a hopeful fool or simply stupid. Thuringwethil refuses to meet her birth-mother, claiming she has no relationship with an Ainu living in a dollhouse. 

But Melian will not stop asking. Just like she seems to forget Thuringwethil's existence the moment she returns to Doriath. 

"I wonder, if she is ever going to be satisfied," Mairon says to his prisoner. "But I am not going to complain. The magic in return and the knowledge I receive while I take your kind apart is worth the even most futile endeavour." 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Thus, Eöl is visited by a wandering Eldar and is taught a lot of secrets of the world. To his credit, Eöl is smarter than the rest of his siblings and throws his guest out. He figures the Orcs attacking him shortly after, are meant as payback but he is sturdy and survives. 

Unhappy and irritated by his scheming kin, Eöl prefers the company of the Dwarves from that day onwards. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Do really think he has a chance?" Daeron points at Eöl's son and raises an eyebrow. The Noldor princess is asleep and will not wake as long as the brothers desire their privacy. "Do you really think it is a good idea to procreate? Who knows what is going to happen with the boy!" 

Eöl snarls and resists the urge to tear Daeron apart. He does not like him this near to his wife and his son. 

"He looks normal. Aredhel believes that there is nothing wrong with him and she grew up with a lot of kids in her damned family. If anything, she used to ride with Oromë and should recognize a monster, especially if she has given birth to it." 

Daeron backs away, fully aware that Eöl is the Master of Nan Elmoth and most powerful in this forest. Even if he desired it, he would  _ never  _ reach the boy before vines and roots would ripe him apart. 

"I am just saying that having a child is a selfish action on your part. Especially in the place where our parents first met," Daeron points out. What he does not say that Eöl and Aredhel are the reverse images of Thingol and Melian. 

This time, the silver-haired man is not the clueless visitor stumbling through an enchanted forest. It is the dark-haired woman who likely is never going to leave the honey trap again. 

"Leave us alone," Eöl hollers and chases his brother away. 

It is the last time they see each other. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


No one knows what happens when Eöl dies. Melian does not feel it, though Thingol has nightmares and carries unexplainable grief in his heart. 

Daeron curses his brother and throws harsh, thrilling notes at those who try to approach him. The sight of Luthien singing and dancing makes him even angrier. 

The next day Daeron vows that Melian will pay. 

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daeron is canon(ish) and Eöl my imagination but a frequently used idea of mine. I just never had the idea to put them together.


	5. Chapter 5

Daeron grows up observing the world around him and wonders what's wrong with him. As much as he tries, the Sindar give him a wide berth. They do so unintentionally. As long as Daeron charms them, they engage him with thoughts, laughter and smiles. When he stops, they act as if he does not exist.

Melian, Luthien and Beleg are the few exceptions.

Later, Daeron learns why the Queen and the Princess are unaffected. For Beleg, he never receives an explanation.

The news of his death grieves Daeron when he hears of it, though it does not surprise him that Beleg finds his end on Anglachel's blade. Turín has little to do with it and Daeron merely wonders who was guiding the sword's path.

At that point, though, Daeron is already far away and enjoying the pleasures of the open sky over his head. His entire life he lived in the shadows of the trees whose voices have been warped and tainted by the light-footed nightingale pulling at their roots.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Daeron is a child he screams and rages to release the emotions trapped in his chest. His music is magnificent and terrible. He never gets far with it for there is always the Queen around to placate him. The first years, he is grateful. The Sindar praise his skills but there is fear in their eyes when he plays.

Only after meeting Eöl by chance and hearing some uncomfortable observations, he becomes suspicious.

Unlike Eöl, who has the subtility of an anvil, Daeron learned to be cautious. With his brother's warning, he begins to investigate.

He learns several things.

  
  


* * *

  
  


He cannot leave the forest.

He cannot tell Luthien the truth.

He is forced to smile at Luthien so much that his eyes water after a few minutes. The folk must believe its admiration.

He cannot even feel resentment towards Luthien.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Visiting Eöl in Nan Elmoth requires permission from the Queen. She is unwilling to grant him that unless Daeron can trick her into agreeing in public. It becomes a game over the years and a training ground for him for Daeron discovers several more truths.

First among them that Elu Thingol is just as clueless as the day he wandered into the cursed forest of Nan Elmoth.

Second, Melian is not acting out of maliciousness, she is simply callous and small-minded.

Third, Daeron is not sure what Luthien is. Regardless of how much he studies her under the guise of admiration, she never slips up. She is sweet and perfect and beautiful. There comes the point where Daeron wonders if Melian simply wished her daughter into existence.

It would not surprise him, given how their mother used to study with Irmo before serving Yavanna. On the other hand, there is Dior. But that child makes no sense to anyone so Daeron might be onto something.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Fact is, there is nothing in the world quite like Luthien. She is exactly what Melian dreamed her up to be. But dreams can die and so does Luthien as she chases after Beren, unwilling to let go of one _real_ mind around her.

When Luthien returns, she is different. The call of Mandos follows her. There is knowledge in her eyes and a determination in her gaze.

For the first time in his existence, Daeron sees Melian flinch.

  
  


He cannot explain what happened with Luthien when she spoke with Lord of Mandos. He will never know how much she knew or if she suffered as much as he and Eöl did.

That he caused her imprisonment once Daeron hardly regrets. A few short weeks trapped in a treehouse cannot compare to the centuries he prowled along Doriath's borders. Luthien deserves a taste of what he suffered through.

That she finds the strength to break out makes him hate her even more.

Later, he is grateful, because dying and forcing Elu Thingol to watch is the greatest punishment for the King _and_ the Queen of Doriath.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Daeron laughs fully and full-heartedly only twice in his life. The day Luthien follows Beren into the Halls of Mandos and the days she leaves the world forever, forsaking her unflappable mother, her naive father and her scrupulous siblings.

"Congratulations of freeing yourself, sister," he says to the stars.

He is less than happy to learn that it was Thuringwethil who told Luthien the truth. What else passed between the sisters, remains a secret.

He wagers there lies also the reason Luthien did not kill Sauron. Either she did not want to, recognizing the hand the Ainu had in creating them or she is unable to do so which is worrying in its own right.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Daeron avoids physical battles. He is too much of a coward to figure out what will crawl out of him when he has the option between dying and hitting back.

The one time he nearly dies is when Tinfang asks, "Is Sauron our father or Elwë?"

That evening Daeron nearly slits his throat with the chicken bone he had been gnawing on because the implications are too horrifying to contemplate.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is, in theory, only one chapter left. But WhumbTober isn't over yet and I keep wondering about Thingol's reaction to all of this. Finwe, for sure, is glad that his children are well-mannered and put together compared to the Doriath' ensemble. Another horrifying thought: Túrin is the normal one, compared to the others.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: the fate of Elurin & Elured, also: Sauron again

"Are you happy, Melyanna?"

Mairon has changed. The Noldor call him Sauron and Melian wonders if they saw truer than the most. Thus, she cannot answer the question for she envies the Noldor for having someone like Fëanor whom she did not meet but wished she had.

Tales of how Fëanor refused Melkor and refused to yield even in the wake of death and terrible tragedy make her feel ashamed.

Lowering her head, Melian gazes into the reflection the wild river throws back at her. She is sitting on a branch and Mairon is right next to her with the slight difference that she is a husk of her former self and he is strong and vibrant.

"Do not mock me, Mairon." She feels no satisfaction when he flinches at the use of a name which no longer applies. The fumes of Angband marred his beauty.

"It is no mockery. I have done my best to fulfil your wishes." Mairon's voice is soft and sympathetic. "Since I do not lower myself the emotions you embraced with your wish for children, I am simply curious what conclusions you draw now after everything is said and done."

"I do not know," Melian says. Tears gather in her eyes and the world blurs as she tries to wipe them away. "I do not know, Mairon. Leave me be and ask the question again when I had time to think about it."

Ugly laughter sounds through the empty forest that was once her kingdom. Winter turned into a nightmare, cold and dark. Blood dried in the snow and sullies the earth. Corpses of people she had to know for thousands of years lie scattered across the land and there will be no one who is going to bury them.

Sauron leaves with what remains of Elurín and Eluréd, taking his due like he always has and Melian does not wish to know if they are still alive. Having their bodies harvested would be a kinder fate.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Melian knows that Daeron is responsible for Thingol's death. He left the forest after Luthien did, using the opportunity to flee her grasp. That he enchanted the Dwarves to make sure his father finds an ugly end, Melian had not thought within his capabilities. But she cannot blame him either.

Feeling Elwë die felt like dying a thousand deaths.

It slowly dawns on her that it is less than she deserves. Around her, Beleriand is dying and she had her hand in bringing forth the ruin of a once flourishing land.

When the Noldor arrived, she counselled Elwë not to listen to them. She told her husband that the Noldor are foolish to make war with Angband. The shadow in the North has always been there and they all learned to live with it.

She had never thought it possible that the Noldor could be successful.

In the end, she doomed the Sindar and her husband to die because she would have been unable to explain why she cannot take action against Mairon. They made a pact and her demand for children ensured Mairon a near-endless supply of people to use and experiment upon. He used her enchantments to lure people into his territories.

The number of Orcs have multiplied from a few hundred into millions, most of them waiting beneath the earth, ready to be eaten by their brethren.

Melian does not want to know how many of them Mairon created with her blood.

She sighs, changes into a bird no bigger than the size of a child's fist and lets herself be carried away by the currents of the wind, abandoning little Elwing to her fate and the jewel in her grasp.

  
  


  
  


* * *

  
  


When Maglor crosses the path of two little children years later, he gazes into their eyes and the fire of his soul burns away of whatever the blood of Melian left behind. They are now his and he claims them for himself.

For Elwing, it is too late.

The she-monster jumps, afraid of what will happen if the fire touches her soul. The jewel she could handle, from afar, the source is far more dangerous.

Ulmo takes mercy on her and transforms her into an animal.

Elwing, the sea-gull, cries in out. She can no longer feel joy or sadness. She does not have to think beyond her next meal.

The winds of the sea carry her over the ocean and Elwing forgets.

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Námo to Thingol is the Halls: "There are four more children you know nothing about. You need to go on a quest to collect them all. Also, please meet your very traumatised grandchild." 
> 
> This story is technically finished but I will let it remain marked as WIP because I have the desire to write more of this fucked up family.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am officially no longer responsible for the plot or where it takes us.

For as long as he can remember, the shadows whisper to him. 

Visitors of Nan Elmoth claim that the forest is dead, forsaken place. No Elves ever settled there. Travellers avoid the trees and never pick up fallen leaves or twigs for their fires. Too many have ventured into the forest, never to return. 

Maeglin, born in an alcove deep in the forest, where no sun, no moon and no star ever reaches with their light, opened his eyes to a world whispering into his ear and praising his birth. As he grew, he never lacked in friends to play with. The forest cradled him in its branches when he fell asleep. It ensured he never fell where he could not climb out of and it healed the wounds on his knees and the bruises on his knuckles. 

Eöl did not call his child by a name in Elven tongue for years, because Nan Elmoth spoke to his son in its own language. Only on the insistence of his wife, he translated the forest's name. Though,  _ Maeglin  _ is the shortened version of what Nan Elmoth told Eöl. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


He will never utter it while he is alive, but Maeglin regrets coming to Gondolin. On some level, he understands that it was his mother's decision but he believes if he had been a better son, his family would have been happy in Nan Elmoth and avoided the tragedy that fell upon them. He blames himself and takes cold, empty Gondolin as punishment for leading Mother and Father into death. 

Maeglin takes refuge in the depths of the Mountains. The trees in Tumladen are silent and dead compared to the wise and ancient spirits that held him during his childhood. But the earth speaks and Maeglin learns to listen. He remembers the lessons of the Khazad. 

In his memories, Belegost and Nogrod are grand, alive and warm. Gondolin is a carving made of silence. There is no colour in this city, nothing but grey and white and a splatter of gold. No wonder that Maeglin cannot feel his father's fëa. It must have departed the moment the stone cracked Eöl's head open like an egg. 

He must not have wanted to be chained to such a grave where King Turgon rules with empty words and promises of the past. The older he becomes, the more Maeglin wonders why his mother wished to return to this place. He avoids visiting the mausoleum the King build for her. He even avoids looking at it, taking different roads for the sight of his mother's grave sours his mood. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Tales speak of Maeglin and Idril. Their content varies but not a single one touches on the truth. 

There is not a single witness that could summarize what happened between the cousins. It is neither love nor hate, but certainly a definite lack of indifference. It is a storm of intense feelings, largely based on fear and anger. 

Both Idril and Maeglin possess abilities of the mind that go far beyond what a normal Elf can do. They see more of each other, and deeper than anyone else is capable of. Instead of becoming friends, the royal cousins feud and the Lords of Gondolin do not comprehend why. 

The King claims it is the blood of Elenwë that gifts his daughter her abilities and within Maeglin runs the blood of the Sindar. Duilin from the House of the Swallow speaks in hushed whispers of the rumours he heard about Eöl. How he is supposed to Elu Thingol's disinherited son but no one dares to ask why. 

Maeglin does not listen to the only Sindar Lord in Gondolin. He snarls at Idril and calls her false witch when no one is around. 

Idril spits back and speaks of harsh and ugly cruelties. 

By the time Tuor arrives Maeglin and Idril have their enmity transformed into an art form. 

  
  


  
  


* * *

  
  


Sometimes Maeglin hates Idril so much that he thinks of wrapping his hands around her neck. It would a relief, to squeeze until the Princess can no longer breathe. Until her trashing body becomes still and lifeless. On other days, Maeglin wants her blood for his swords. He would string her up in his forge and keep her alive until he made the best use of her. 

Idril is a terrible waste. She has talents but she does not use them. 

Turgon ducks his head when his daughter speaks of the monster they keep in the palace and says nothing. One day, he thinks, he will ask Idril to look into a mirror after she is done speaking ill of her cousin. 

In the end, he does not because Idril is not ready yet. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Maeglin has free range in the Mountains, the King is unlikely to come after him and will not turn to suspicions as long as his nephew returns in regular intervals. It takes a while, but as the world outside becomes dark and more spirits of the dead roam the land, Orcs crawl through the cracks in the earth. 

As someone who grew up in Nan Elmoth, Maeglin learned to see in the dark and what his eyes cannot perceive he can sense with his mind. 

Stumbling upon Orcs deep beneath the surface is an experience. From the tales, he expected to be met with violence. Instead, the creatures are frozen with fear. They respond with terror and awe when Maeglin does not slaughter them with his sword. He could, he has learned to defend himself in the narrow tunnels and his mental abilities could render them dead within seconds if he desired. 

Most of them are not even soldiers of Angband. They are refugees who scrambled to hide deep within the earth, eager to avoid the war outside. 

Maeglin hesitates but he wants to hear their stories. He shares his wine with them and what little food he carries. In return, they gift him with stories. 

From their perspective, it is difficult to believe that they live in the same land and under the same stars. Maeglin does not completely understand what they talking about, some of the references are too complicated and incomprehensible, but he does not kill them. Rather, he waits and returns with more food next time. The tribe leads him towards precious minerals. 

The only female among them is the leader, Maeglin understands. The Orc woman is intelligent, has received some education and is in a far better condition than her male tribe members. He suspects male Orcs turn towards cannibalism rather than take away food from their few and precious females. 

The Orc woman, who is referred to as Queen in the Black Speech Maeglin learns, may have been one of the Eldar once. Her male companions are clearly descendants and beings of lesser status. Creatures who have received little food or freedom in their lives. 

Maeglin is kind to the tribe. After his uncle Findekáno's death at the Nirnaeth Arnodiad and Turgon forcing him to return to Gondolin, he sees little sense in slaughter. The city of King Turgon is a lifeless husk and Idril too busy with her newborn infant to engage in their usual pastime of cheerful animosity. 

One day, Maeglin returns to spot where the tribe lived and finds a stranger instead. 

He is tall, long-limbed and has hair coloured in fire. 

His eyes remind Maeglin of his father. Eöl is a distant memory and Nan Elmoth has sunken back into his dreams. 

The sight of the beautiful stranger sucking the blood of the skull of the Orc who shared ancient stories with Maeglin last month wakes a dark, strange urge inside him. He is not running away in terror or charging at the Maia with his sword raised. It would be a foolish thing to do and from the tribe, Maeglin learned that not everything is granted the right to live. 

The Eldar are born to starlight. 

Maeglin was nourished by the blood of Nan Elmoth where shadows were his best friends.

"Shall we share the wine I brought? It would be terrible to let go to waste," Maeglin asks and approaches the being Eöl called  _ Artano  _ the High Smith,  _ Zigûr  _ the Wizard and, on some occasions, Aulendil. In front of him stands Aulë's beloved student. 

Sauron smiles and invites him to sit. 

Maeglin does not spare the bones of the tribe around them a second thought. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sauron: "I have a grandchild!" *_*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will use _Sauron_ in the narrative to make it easier whom I am talking about. Given Sauron's many names, he is referred differently to depending on who is talking.

Days later, in a forgotten house deep in Taur-no-Fuin, a land Sauron claimed for himself, he pours Maeglin wine and produces more edible food than what he usually keeps around after remembering that womb-born creatures need proper nourishment.

"The fall should not have killed your father. With his abilities, it surprises me that a simple fall brought a quick end to his life," Sauron says.

By now they have gotten to know each other a little and they opened the conversation by Sauron commenting on recognizing Anguirel. Quickly they turned to discuss Eöl, the common detonator between them. Since Maeglin is unlikely to know Sauron's involvement within Eöl's life, he chooses to play the role of an old mentor.

"His spirit was weakened by the dispute with my mother," Maeglin shrugs but his dark expression hints at his torn feelings about the event.

Sauron cannot only guess what happened. Unfortunately, it will remain a theory for a while. He does not want to scare the child.

Child. Well, not truly. Maeglin is no longer young. Years of living under Gondolin's oppressing rule and surviving the great battle the Eldar call the Nirnath Arnodiad have brought maturity to a once quick-tempered and troubled child.

Instead, Maeglin remains curious to engage in conversations but confident enough to flinch at Sauron's presence.

When Tevildo, the Lord of Cats, comes out to greet his Lord Maeglin barely blinks at the sharp teeth and claws. He greets Tevildo with politeness and respect, showing more kindness than most Eldar have in a long time. Sauron is pleased, though he chalks it up to childhood in Nan Elmoth. Even _he_ ventured carefully whenever he visited that forest and any child born between those deep roots is bound to view the world a little differently.

"You do not need to feel guilty about his death. Your father has a troubled past and there have always been periods where he was not well." Sauron picks up on Maeglin's thoughts. "Do not doubt that he loved you and that you were his pride and his joy."

"Most days I know that. It is just difficult to remember the good days sometimes. In Gondolin, they barely remember my mother, let alone correctly," Maeglin murmurs and describes the horrible statues of the Noldor Princess Turgon made. It is a far cry from the huntress and warrior Maeglin has known Aredhel to be. "My father remains a ghost. He is not spoken about at all, only acknowledged through the comments Idril keeps making about me."

An idea comes to Sauron's mind. He has ventured deeply into space between life and death. The existence of Melyanna's children are the proof much is possible when the usual rules are extended a bit. The Eldar are durable and Sauron refuses to believe that Eöl's spirit is lost.

"Do you wish to ask him?" Sauron asks and has to admit to himself that he fears Maeglin's answer.

For an Eldar Sauron's proposal would be immoral, dark sorcery that thinking about calls for death and banishment.

A smile spreads over Sauron's face when Maeglin's gaze becomes hopeful.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sauron does not intent to force Eöl back to life. As far as he knows, an intact fëa will find its way back to a hröa if they desire. In order to talk to Eöl, though, they need his remains or what is left of them. During his long existence, the Eldar have given him many names. Among them is _Thû the Necromancer._ Maeglin does not seem to mind the idea, he has been growing up with the forgotten spirits of the people Nan Elmoth claimed walking by his side.

"We will need to enter Gondolin," Sauron says, raising his eyebrow and wonders if Maeglin understands the implications.

Melian is shortsighted and naive in her worldview. She lacks the sensibility to comprehend what it means when she borrows wombs to birth children she otherwise cannot have own her own. Since dead Elleth produces a bad environment to gestate in, they moved on to living ones.

Much is possible and the knowledge is easy to come by.

Most baulk at the price that needs to be paid for magic like this.

Maeglin furrows his eyebrows while the world outside has gotten a little darker in the past weeks. Sauron has looked towards Doriath in the past years. The events in the protected kingdom were the reason he moved to Taun-nu-Fuin in the first place.

Angband's Lord is aware of his lieutenant's pact with the female Maia living in the forest. It is an ancient thing that came to pass long before Melkor was released from the Halls of Mandos and therefore he deemed it wrong to get involved.

_I am not in a hurry, Mairon,_ the dark Vala degreed and pretended that he did not need to recuperate from the wounds the Highking Nolofinwë dealt him.

Hence why Sauron has been circling Doriath and the girdle for a while. It had been a surprise to find Nan Elmoth empty, screaming at him to return the child of the forest to its place of birth. Locating Maeglin, Eöl's child, in Gondolin had been easy enough.

Of course, the city is hardly a secret. Spies found it long ago but Melkor deemed it too much trouble to tear down the city until now. There is nothing to be gained, especially with Turgon's self-appointed isolating causing more than enough damage.

The image of a golden-haired woman flashes through Maeglin's mind as he brood over the offer Sauron laid down. The smith and sorcerer sense the enmity behind it and Maeglin's deeply rooted desire to tear his female cousin from the high pedestal she is standing on.

Maeglin glances at Sauron one more time. He is not entirely pitiless towards the innocent living in Gondolin and of course, he has figured out who the figure in the shape of an Elf must be. As loosely as Artano defines his loyalty towards Morgoth, he is still a high-ranking member of the Dark Vala's army.

"Allow those who choose not to fight to flee south and I will you tell you anything you need to know about Gondolin's defences," Maeglin says.

His desire to speak with his father wins out. With the girdle around Doriath having fallen with Elu Thingol's death, Gondolin remains the only realm in the north. Alone, it is not strong enough to withstand Angband and soon enough Morgoth could besiege them, starve them out without losing a single soldier.

Fewer people will die this way.

Sauron agrees to Maeglin's terms, silent and secretive about his involvement in Eöl's existence, but finds himself delighted about his student's son. It is easy enough to grant Maeglin immunity and protection against the dark forces of Angband.

* * *

Regret looms in Maeglin's mind when Gondolin burns around him. He keeps stumbling over corpses. People he has known for a long time and there are a few friends among them as well. He reminds himself that Morgoth already knew the city's location and destroying Gondolin is a kinder fate than the plan of a siege.

"Traitor," Idril screams at him as Maeglin climbs the cliff to get to his father's bones. "I know you are in league with Morgoth."

Arrows fly through the air. From his higher point, Maeglin has a good view of the battle Ecthelion leads against the Balrogs. They are large, terrifying things but mostly made from fire and very durable. Black smoke rises in the sky and darkens the entire region. The clouds will block out the sun for weeks.

Idril should be running, using the tunnels through the mountains to get out. Tuor has a better sense than his wife. He has wrapped Eärendil with a robe onto his back and demands that they should leave.

"He is no concern to us. If he wants to join his father, let him. But I refuse to lose you to madness," Tuor says and drags Idril away.

Maeglin takes a moment to watch them disappear between fallen beams and broken pillars. He has no idea where his journey will lead him the day after tomorrow. No doubt that Idril will smear his reputation among the Eldar but she has not realized yet that they cannot win this war. With powers like Morgoth still lingering in Angband and sorcerers like Artano, or _Sauron_ as the Noldor like to call him, at his side, it is pointless to hope that it is possible to win this war.

Smoke and ashes burn in his lungs by the time he reaches his father's grave in the sky. Maeglin enchants the ground to give back the bones it swallowed. With trembling hands, he packs them into a bundle. When he turns around, Gondolin is a burnt heap of rubble.

Just as he wonders how he gets out without getting scorched, a pair of great dark wings darken the sky and a woman lands on a cliff beside him. A great cloak flutters in the wind, a stark contrast to the woman's white hair. Her serious eyes speak of secrets and her smile beckons him to come closer.

Maeglin notices her naked, heavily muscled thigh that ends into clawed feet.

"Come with me, nephew. I will carry you far away from this place." Thuringwethil spreads her wings as she wraps an arm around his waist. As they take into the air, she says, "I look forwards to speaking with my brother. He will be pleased by the turn of events in Doriath."

They bid farewell to a burning Gondolin. In the distance, the long trail of refugees become smaller as the vampire carries them over mountain peaks, forests and rivers. After long hours Thuringwethil descends and drops the slumbering Elf off at Nan Elmoth. Branches reach out to her nephew long before she reaches the ground.

Thuringwethil does not question the spirits of this place. Instead, she leaves Maeglin be and enjoys the lack of sunlight and the atmosphere the forest provides. She feels welcome, here at her brother's home.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus Maeglin survives the Fall of Gondolin. Which was not supposed to happen. I wanted Maeglin in Angband's dungeons and be confronted with Sauron revealing the dirty secret. Not a bloodthirsty aunt and Sauron acting like Feanor around his grandson.


End file.
